Triple (50 page)

The exchange of signals was heard sixty miles away by Solly Weinberg, the

master of the Gil Hamilton and a commander in the Israeli Navy. He

muttered, "Right on schedule. Well done, Koch." He set a course for the

Coparelli and ordered full speed ahead.

. It was not heard by Yasif Hassan and Mahmoud aboard the Nablus 150 miles

away. They were in the captain's cabin, bent over a sketch plan Hassan had

drawn of the Coparelli, and they were deciding exactly how they would

board her and take over. Hassan had instructed the Nablus's radio operator

to listen out on two wavelengths: the one on which the Strombe?gls radio

beacon~ broadcast and the one Tyrin was using for his clandestine signals

from the Coparelli to Rostov aboard the Karla. Ilecause the messages were

sent on the CopareIll's regular wavelength, the Nablus did not pick them

up. It would be some time before the Fedayeen realized they were hijacking

an almost abandoned ship.

The exchange was heard 200 miles away on the bridge of the Stromberg.

When the Caparelli acknowledged the signal from Papagopolous, the

officers on the' bridge cheered and clapped. Nat Dickstein, leaning

against a bulkhead with a mug of black coffee in his hand~ staring ahead

at the rain and the heaving sea, did not cheer. His body was hunched and

tense, his face stiff, his brown eyes slitted behind the plastic

spectacles. One of the others noticed his silence and made a remark about

getting over the first big hurdle. Dickstein's muttered reply was

uncharacteristically peppered with the strongest of obscenities. The

cheerful officer tamed away, and later in the mess observed that

Dickstein looked like the kind Of man who would stick a knife in you if

you stepped on his toe.

And it was heard by David Rostov and Suza Ashford 300 miles away aboard

the Karla.

Suza had been in a daze as she walked across the gangplank from the

Sicilian quayside on to the Polish vessel. She had hardly noticed what

was happening as Rostov showed her to her cabin-an officer's room with

its own head-and said he hoped she would be comfortable. She sat on the

bed. She was still there, in the same position, an hour later when a

285

Ken Folleff

sailor brought some cold food on a tray and set it down on her table

without speaking. She did not eat it. When it got dark she began to

shiver, so she got into the bed and lay there with her eyes wide open,

staring at nothing, stiff shivering.

Eventually she had slept-fitfully at first, with strange meaningless

nightmares, but in the end deeply. Dawn woke her.

She lay still, feeling the motion of the ship and looking blankly at the

cabin around her; and then she realized where she was. It was like waking

up and remembering the blind terror of a nightmare, except that instead

of thinking: Oh, thank God it was a dream, she realized it was all true

and it was still going on.

She felt horribly guilty. She had been fooling herself, she could see

that now. She had convinced herself that she had to find Nat to warn him,

no matter the risk; but the truth was she would have reached for any

excuse to go and see him. The disastrous consequences of what she had

done followed naturally from the confusion of her motives. It was true

that Nat had been in danger; but he was in worse danger now, and it was

Suza's fault.

She thought of that, and she thought of how she was at sea in a Polish

ship commanded by Nats enemies and surrounded by Russian thugs; and she

closed her eyes tightly and pushed her head under the pillow and fought

the hysteria that bubbled up in her throat.

And then she began to feel angry, and thatwas what saved her sanity.

She thought of her father, and how he wanted to use her to further his

political ideas, and she felt angry with him. She thought of Hassan,

manipulating her father, putting his hand on her knee, and she wished she

had slapped his face while she had the chance. Finally she thought of

Rostov, with his hard, intelligent face and his cold smile, and how he

intended to ram Nat's ship and kill him, and she got mad as bell.

Dickstein was her man. He was funny, and he was strong, and he was oddly

vulnerable, and he wrote love letters and stole ships, and he was the

only man she had ever loved like this; and she was not going to lose him.

She was in the enemy camp, a prisoner, but only from her point of view.

They thought she was on their side; they trusted her. Perhaps she would

have a chance to throw a wrench in their works. She must look for it. She

would move 286

TRIPLE

about the ship, concealing her fear, talking to her enemies, consolidating

her position in their confidence, pretending -to

'Share their ambitions and concerns, until she saw her opportunity.

The thought made her tremble. Then she told herself: If I don't do this,

I lose him; and if I lose him I don't want to live.

She got out of bed. She took off the clothes she had slept i% -washed and

put on clean sweater and pants from her suitcase. She sat at the small

nailed-down table and ate some of the sausage and cheese that had been

left there the day before. She brushed her hair and, just to boost her

morale a little, put on a trace of make-up.

She tried her cabin door. It was not locked.

She went out.

She walked along a gangway and followed the smell of food to the galley.

She went in and looked swiftly about.

Rostov sat alone, eating eggs slowly with a fork. He looked up and saw

her. Suddenly his face seemed icily evil, his narrow mouth hard, his eyes

without emotion. Suza hesitated, then forced herself to walk toward him.

Reaching his table, she leaned briefly on a chair, for her legs felt

weak.

Rostov said, "Sit down."

She dropped into the chair.

"How did you sleep?"

She was breathing too quickly, as if she had been walking very fast.

"Fine," she said. Her voice shook.

His sharp, skeptical eyes seemed to bore into her brain. "You seem

upset." He spoke evenly, without sympathy or hostility.

"I . . ." Words seemed to stick in her tbroat, choking her. "Yesterday

... was confusing." It was true, anyway- it was easy to say this. "I

never saw someone die."

"Ah." At last a hint of human feeling showed in Rostov's expression:

perhaps he remembered the first time he watched a man die. He reached for

a coffee pot and poured her a cup. "You!re very young," he said. "You

can't be much older than my first son."

Suza sipped at the hot coffee gratefully, hoping be would go on talking

in this fashion-it would help her to calm down.

"Your sonT' she said.

287

K*n Folleff

"Yuri Davidovitch, he's twenty."

"What does he dor'

Rostov's smile was not as chilly as before. "Unfortunately he spends most

of his time listening to decadent music. He doesn't study as hard as he

should. Not like his brother."

Suza's breathing was slowing to normal, and her hand no longer shook when

she picked up her cup. She knew that this man was no less dangerous just

because he had a family; but he seemed less frightening when he talked

like this. "And your other sonT' shq asked. 'The younger one?"

Rostov nodded. "Vladimir." Now he was not frightening at all: he was

staring over Suza's shoulder with a fond, indulgent expression on his

face. "He's very gifted. He will be a great mathematician if he gets the

right schooling."

"That shouldn't be a problem," she said, watching him. "Soviet education

is the best in the world."

It seemed like a safe thing to say, but must have had some special

significance for him, because the faraway look disappeared and his face

turned hard and cold again. "No," he said. "It shouldn't be a problem."

He continued eating his eggs.

Suza thought urgently: He was becoming friendly, I mustn't lose him now.

She cast about desperately for something to say. What did they have in

common, what could they talk about? Then she was inspired. "I wish I

could remember you from when you were at Oxford."

"You were very small." He poured himself some coffee. "Everyone remembers

your mother. She was easily the most beautiful woman around. And you're

exactly like her."

That's better, Suza thought. She asked him, "What did you study?"

G.Economics."

"Not an exact science in those days, I imagine. 09

"And not much better today."

Suza put on a faintly solemn expression. "We speak of bourReois

economics, of course."

"Of course." Rostov looked at her as if he could not tell whether she

were serious or not. He seemed to decide she was.

An officer came into the galley and svoke to him in Russian. Rostov

looked at Suza regretfully. "I must go up to the bridge."

288

TRIPLE

She had to go with him. She forced herself to speak calmly. "May I come?"

He hesitated. Suza thought: He should let me. Hes enjoyed talking to me, he

believes I'm on his side, and if I learn any secrets how could he imagine

I could use them, stuck here on a KOB ship?

Rostov said: "Why not?"

He walked away. Suza followed.

Up in the radio room Rostov smiled as he read through the messages and

translated them for Suza's benefit. He seemed delighted with Dickstein's

ingenuity. "The man is smart as hell," he said.

"What's Savile Shipping?" Suza asked.

"A front for Israeli Intelligence. Dickstein is eliminating all the people

who have reason to be interested in what happens to the uranium. The

shipping company isn't interested because they no longer own the ship. Now

he's taking off the captain and crew. No doubt he has some kind of hold

over the people who actually own the uranium. TVs a beautiful scheme."

This was what Suza wanted. Rostov was talking to her like a colleague, she

was at the center of events; she must be- able to find a way to foul things

up for him. She said, "I suppose the breakdown was rigged?"

"Yes. Now Dickstein can take over the ship without firing a shot."

Suza thought fast When she "betrayed" Dickstein she had proved her loyalty

to the Arab side. Now the Arab side had split into two camps: in one were

Rostov, the KGB and Egyptian Intelligence; in the other Hassan and the

Fedayeen. Now Suza could prove her loyalty to Rostov's side by betraying

Hassan.

She said, as casually as she possibly could, "And so can Yasif Hassan, of

course."

"'What?"

"Hassan can also take over the Coparelli without firing a shot.99

Rostov stared at her. The blood seemed to drain from his thin face. Suza

was shocked to see him suddenly lose all his poise and confidence. He said,

"Hassan intends to hijack the Coparelli?"

289

Ron falloff

Suza pretended to be shocked. "Are you telling me that you didn!t know?"

"But who? Not the Egyptians, surelyl"

"Me Fedayeen. Hassan said this was your plan."

Rostov banged the bulkhead with his fist, looking very uncool and Russian

for a moment. "Hassan is a liar and a traitor!"

This was Suza's chance, she knew. She thought: Give me strength. She said:

"Maybe we can stop him . .

Rostov looked at her. "What's his planr

"To hijack the Coparelli before Dickstein gets there, then ambush the

Israeli team, and sail to ... he didn't tell me exactly, somewhere in North

Africa. What was your plan?"

"fo ram the ship after Dickstein had stolen the

"Can't we still do that?"

"No. We're too far away, we'd never catch them."

Suza knew that if she did not do the next bit exactly right, both she and

Dickstein would die. She crossed her arms to stop the shaking. She said,

"nen there is only one thing we can do."

Rostov looked up at her. "There isr

"We must warn Dickstein of the Fedayeen ambush so that he can take back the

Coparelli."

There. She had said it. She watched Rostov's face. He must swallow it, it

was logical, it was the right thing for him to dot

Rostov was thinking hard. He said, "Warn Dickstein so that be can take the

Coparelli back from the Fedayeen. T'hen he can proceed according to his

plan and we can proceed according to ours."

"Yesl" said Suza. "Thafs the only waylIsn't it? Isn't it?"

FROM: SAVILE SHIPPING, ZURICH TO: ANGELUZZI E BIANCO, GENOA YOUR YELLOWCAKE

CONSIGNMENT FROM F.A. PEDLER INDEFINITELY DELAYED DUE TO ENGINE TROUBLE AT

SEA. WILL ADVISE SOONEST OF NEW DELIVERY DATES. PAPAGO' POLOUS.

As the Gil Hamflton came into view, Pyotr Tyrin cornered Ravlo, the addict,

in the 'tweendecks of the Coparelli. Tyrin 290